Steve hadn't been kidding. Everything was good at this place. But Bucky's judgment may have been fogged by the fact that he was famished and that he was really enjoying himself otherwise. Steve had so many stories, and as he listened, Bucky felt like he was living them with him. It was like old times. Sure, Steve was a big hero and he was a little jaded with the modern world now, but he was the same good man Bucky had known, same kid who just never backed down from defending his principles. Still had the same endless enthusiasm and bright outlook.

"…the world's just so big now. It's incredible. Have you seen these…" Steve snapped his fingers, looking for the word, "these… ah, I just had it, smart cars? No… they're electrical, or hydrogen-powered? Something, unbelievable."

Bucky had not seen those. "What?"

"Yeah, they don't run off of gasoline, or not mostly. Some you just plug into a wall, like a lamp."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I had to drive one earlier this year. And the roads! They're huge and smooth and cover everything! You can drive anywhere."

"Yeah, I'd noticed."

"And even powered by electricity, these cars are so fast. And, the television! Crystal clear, in color. People hardly listen to the radio anymore."

Bucky nodded along. He was glad he wasn't alone being astounded by these things.

"The things people can do, it is just mind-blowing. And the clothing. I saw a couple of kids walking around in pants with holes in them. I asked about it. It's a fashion."

Bucky scoffed, "wearing burnt through clothing is a fashion? They would have loved the clothes in our time."

Steve nodded, laughing but without humor. "Anyway, I've been talking the whole time again. What have you been doing? Were you working or-"

"I slept with Agent Romanoff," Bucky blurted out. He'd been looking at the empty wax paper of his open-faced sandwich, trying to think about how to explain the past month or so to Steve, but that had come tumbling out, tactless and ill-timed. He didn't really know the reason, only that he would feel better after he told Steve.

"You… you… slept with Agent Romanoff?" Steve's eyes were as big as saucers.

Bucky nodded hard. He felt better already, less like a liar. "About…yeah, about two dozen times."

"You-she-you-you did what?"

"We…made whoopee…"

"You were with Natasha? All this time?" There was hurt in Steve's voice.

Bucky had forgotten it wasn't all about him. He had to take other people's feelings into account when making decisions. This reaction was why he'd been keeping the facts from Steve.

"Uh…not the whole time. And we… didn't do that until recently. At-at first, she was… she was someone else, a curator at the Smithsonian, she helped me get off the streets. It wasn't until I was dependent upon her that I found out who she really was. And… then I was stuck until I got control of myself. Then, I went somewhere else, got better… then I… went back to her."

"You mean, she knew where you were all that time I was searching for you?"

Bucky hung his head. He felt bad for doing this to Steve. "Yes, well, yeah, okay, yes. She knew, but… I wasn't ready… to be found. I didn't know who I was, if the soldier in red, white, and blue had been telling the truth, if things were as you said, nothing. Then… well, I was unstable. Everything set me off. Then, I was getting better, but it was delicate, I was still working through being two people, so they couldn't risk anything setting me back. And then… something happened, once I was whole again, and I was sent away to fend for myself. That's when I came looking for you."

Steve had followed him attentively, eyes on Bucky's face the whole time. But when he stopped talking, Steve dropped his head, stared down at his hands. When he responded it was quiet, a little guarded. "I get it, Buck. We woulda killed each other unless the timing was just right. That woulda been a shame."

Bucky was caught off guard by his chuckle that followed. "Yeah, you could say that." He was relieved again, a weight off his shoulders.

"Well," Steve sighed, his tone lightening afterwards, "I'm sure glad you found my apartment. Sure glad." By the time he looked back up again, he was smiling. "So, what's your favorite part of the 21st century. I like the internet, it's handy."

"Natasha," Bucky replied without flinching, and then laughed, but Steve didn't join in. It was still a soft spot. "So, hey, how are you doing? Any friends, dames? Any…anything?"

"Huh. Not really in the habit of having the time, Buck." Steve shook his head and then out of nowhere snickered. "I did kiss Natasha, though. Just once," he added quickly, "and for cover. It didn't mean anything. It was after you took us down on that bridge, actually."

"Yeah… I remember that." It was Bucky's turn to look wistfully out the window. "Sorry again-"

"Stop apologizing! I just told you I kissed the lady you're in a dizzy over and you apologize? Come on, Buck."

"Mmm, well, I'm still sorry. I was sorry to hear about Peggy, too."

"Yeah, but she had a good life. A full life. Lots to not regret."

They both sat in silence for a few moments, reflecting. Finally, Steve sat back and locked Bucky with a stare.

"So, I'm curious, what… what was it like?"

Bucky sat confused, trying to read his friend's face. What was what like? Oh. "D'you mean-"

"Yeah, you and… Romanoff."

Bucky scoffed and scratched absently at his jaw. "Like nothing you'd ever believe, like a… force of nature. She's one hell of a woman. A little wild, but she knows what she's doing."

"Ah, well, actually I meant…" Steve reddened slightly in the ears and then looked away. "Oh, never mind."

"What? Wait. Steve, don't tell me you still haven't-"

"I've-I've done things, just not… I've been waiting for the right one. The right gal."

"Come on!" Bucky sat forward with more energy than he'd exhibited in days. "You're a national hero, a super hero! You're bound to have met a right one by now!"

"I'm busy. Romanoff's been trying to set me up, and… and there's my neighbor, but things keep… getting in the way."

"Sheesh, kid, you're a hard nut-"

"Captain America!" A little kid, maybe ten or eleven came darting out of nowhere up to their table.

Bucky locked down immediately, smile fading, shoving his left hand protectively into his jacket to hide it. Steve kept grinning though.

"Hey, there, kiddo." He held out his hand smartly to the boy, "I'm Steve Rogers. Pleased to meet you."

The boy shook his hand with unbridled fervor and then slapped a reproduction black and white photograph on the table. "Can I have your autograph, Mr. Captain Rogers?"

"Sure thing," Steve chuckled, "and you are, son?"

"My name's Dylan," the kid half-sang, and then bounced up and down as Steve scribbled a note on the photograph.

Bucky leaned in a bit to catch a glimpse of the photo. It was a Howling Commando's portrait, or the closest they had taken. He looked up to find the kid staring at him. He swallowed hard as the boy looked at Bucky's face, then at the photograph and then back at him.

"Hey…" It dawned on the child slowly, then his face lit up, to Bucky's surprise. "Hey! You're Sergeant Barnes! Bucky Barnes! Captain America's best friend, right there! " He pointed to Bucky's face in the photo. "I wrote a report about you in school… How're you here?"

Bucky froze. He had no idea to explain to this kid how he was there. Steve did, though. He jumped in, still grinning away.

"Well, you see, Dylan, Bucky did fall from that train, but what we didn't know was that he didn't die. He was frozen in the snow and ice on that mountain, like I was in the ocean. But we found him and melted him and freed him and here he is!"

The boy followed Steve's every word like it was the gospel truth. He nodded with Steve and then whipped around to Bucky. "WOW! Can I get your autograph, too, Mr. Sergeant Barnes?"

Bucky stared at the kid for a second and then met Steve's eye, who was nodding him on. "Uh… yeah, sure thing. Dylan, was it?" Bucky took the photograph and the marker and stared at them. He knew he had to sign it, but he couldn't remember signing his name. He ended up just winging it. As he handed it over to the kid he felt like it looked about right.

"Thanks, Mr. Captain Rogers. I'm glad you didn't die, Mr. Sergeant Barnes!" The boy took his photograph and ran off to a table of adults who hardly paid him any mind as he blathered about meeting a long dead war veteran.

Bucky turned back to Steve, clearing his throat out of discomfort. "Is this your life? Is this how things are gonna be now, in public?"

Steve shrugged lightly, "I suppose. I got used to it pretty quickly, and I bet you will, too. We remake you as a good guy… yeah. Just gotta do some… image fixing."

Bucky ducked his head and thought that over. It could be tricky. He didn't ever want all the attention back in the war, with the Commandos' footage and the letters. It would be ten times worse now. He decided to change the subject, back to the topic of Steve's lack of dance partners, something not about Bucky.

He looked around the diner, spotted a few young women and then back at Steve. "Hey, what about her?" He nodded to the girl at the table a few to his left. "She looks nice."

Steve glanced over and then rolled his eyes. "No, Buck."

"Or, what about her? How 'bout her, eh? She's been looking at you?" He nodded towards one of the other waitresses. "Or… how 'bout her? You gotta talk to them first, Steve, before you know if she's the one or not."

Steve sighed and shook his head as Bucky kept pointing out women. He turned to the window next, nodding to the ladies who passed outside. "How 'bout- uh-oh."

The fun faded as he spotted a woman in the parking lot, all alone, getting handled by a man. Steve was up in an instant, with Bucky on his heels.

"We'll be back," Steve told their waitress and barged out the doorless frame.

"Steve, wait a second. I can't, Steve," Bucky trailed him, hesitating between helping Steve pummel this guy senseless and worrying about exposing his arm. "What if someone sees?"

"Then stop following me, Buck." Steve replied in a clipped tone, shoulders squared, head down and heading like a freight train towards the man. But Bucky didn't stop, they both barged right on, Bucky grabbing the guy by the collar as Steve stepped in between him and the lady to make sure she was okay.

"Is this man bothering you, miss?"

Her eyes were full of fear. "I don't know him," she mumbled just audibly. "I was just trying to meet my friends inside."

"Mm-hmm," Steve nodded and waved to the diner. "Let's head inside, then. We'll take care of this." He turned back for a second to look at Bucky and the man. "Hold 'em, Buck. I'll be right back."

Bucky sighed, but nodded back. All the people in the diner were staring again. Anonymity was not in the stars for him anymore. Jerking his head to the back of the diner, Bucky pushed the man out of eye sight. He knew where to go, this was a back alley chat. He didn't say anything to the man, though he had plenty to say. He just made sure the guy didn't take off. He had to grab him once.

"Uh-uh. Not yet. Not 'til Rogers has his say." The man glared up at Bucky, and he felt compelled to add, "I'm sorry for you. He doesn't like bullies."

The man sneered at Bucky, "Rogers… what? As in Captain America? Seriously? What does that make you? His sidekick?

Bucky shrugged, crossed his arms. "In a way."

The man was gearing up for another retort, glaring at Bucky, but suddenly he blanched. He'd caught sight of Bucky's left hand, figured out what it was attached to, was staring at it. Just then, Steve came storming around the corner, a tirade on his lips.

"I don't know how you were raised, son, but that is not how you treat a lady, or any person for that matter! People are to be treated with respect and consideration. Women are people, people you treat like the human beings they are. I've seen enough of this belittling of people for three lifetimes. It's incredible that I can wake up seventy years later and the world is so different but this of all things has stayed the same. You know who treats people like things? Nazis. And the Nazis failed. Them and Loki. Do you really want to share anything in common with two of the worst enemies of our world? You shouldn't. Women are not objects, no one is. You listen to what they say. When she says she doesn't want to go with you, you respect that and you back off. You hear me?"

Steve was red in the face by this point.

"Now you can go inside and apologize to that young lady or we can settle this between you and me, and then you'll apologize."

Steve may have gone a little too long with his lecture, because the shock had worn off this man face and was replaced by disdain.

"Or what?" He scoffed, "you'll sic your assassin guard dog on me? Who are you to be lecturing me, consorting with a wanted felon, an international criminal?"

Steve glowered down at him. "Reformed international criminal," he shook his finger at him. "Who was brainwashed, and is still a better man than you are. What's your excuse?"

Bucky didn't hear the exact response the man had for all that. He was swimming in a mixture of embarrassment and relief. Steve still thought he was a good man, he'd forgiven him for everything.

The guy was marching inside a few moments later. Bucky sat back down at their table and picked at the crumbs as Steve sent the guy packing.

"I'll remember you, you better remember what I said." Steve sat down smartly across from Bucky, still seething. "Unbelievable."

Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "Well, at least now you can actually do something with all that righteous indignation of yours. You're a good man, Steve. The world is a better place because of you. It's neat that I get to see that."

"Yeah, well, I do what I can. Hey, Buck?" Steve clearly still had something on his mind. "You did well out there. You were yourself. How often… are you not? Should I not take you with me-"

"No." Bucky shook his head. "No, the incident earlier was a fluke. It's been almost a month since I've had an episode when I blacked out."

"So… what was it?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe seeing actual HYDRA personnel giving me the trigger salute? It seems to me that sort of thing tends to do that to a brainwashing victim. Maybe I'm wrong." He shrugged as if that were all speculation.

Steve barked out a laugh and leaned over to smack Bucky on the shoulder. "That was good, Buck, good dry humor. You've still got that." He sighed, content and looked at the table in front of them. "I'm thinking more fries, you want a milkshake?"

"I'll eat everything you put in front of me. I'm still starving."

"Alright," Steve shrugged. "Let's order it all."

They really only ordered about two thirds of the menu, and by the time they'd made it through all that, Bucky was actually full. They spent the time talking about nothing, casual topics. Bucky felt like himself for almost the whole thing. He even forgot about the arm, and had to rush to cover it back up when he realized he'd taken off his jacket. As their table was cleared and Bucky fretted over how much money Steve had spent, he off-handedly mentioned that now would be a good time for a drink.

Steve snorted, "you mean you want to go to a bar to get not drunk?"

"I said it felt like a good time for a drink, not a good time to get drunk. It still tastes alright, right?"

"Okay… alright, I can do that. Just not whiskey, okay?"

"Roger that."

They didn't even get their drinks before the whole plan went to pieces. Bucky lost Steve as he was ordering their beer. He found him, as he'd figured, out the back, behind the bar.

He sighed, as he sidled up. "You're just busting for a fight, aren't you, Steve?"

Steve had some random guy backed against the fence. So opposite to what Bucky was used to walking up to.

"He was disrespecting the bartender."

"That's why?" The other man asked. "You're defending that old bastard?"

"That man's a war veteran," Steve hissed.

Bucky sighed and grabbed Steve by the shoulder. "Come on, kid. He's not worth it. You'll kill him on accident and then you'll have to live with that."

Steve stood his ground for a second and then gave way to Bucky's pulling. "Fine. You better apologize to that man, and thank this one." He grumbled to the man.

"I wouldn't worry about the bartender, Steve. He's got a shotgun under that bar. I saw it in the mirror."

Steve grumbled in response, nothing intelligible. He was still worked up, hated backing down, hated bullies. Bucky swallowed a chuckle and then continued to pull Steve along, arm around his shoulder. It was a little different with Steve being an inch or so taller than him, but it worked all the same.

They were almost back to Steve's apartment when he shrugged Bucky's arm off and stopped him. "Thanks, Buck."

"For what?" He shook his head like Steve was being ridiculous. "For doing what I've always done and dragging your dumb ass from a back alley? Not a problem, kid." He held out his hand, waited for Steve to shake it. Finally, all re-introductions made. "Makes me feel like you still need me."

Steve smiled in spite of himself and walked on. "You're going to be like that, huh? You'd like Sam. You two have some things in common."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. Veteran. Had this flight suit-"

"The one I ripped in half?"

"Yeah! Him. I'll introduce you someday." Steve announced happily as he opened his apartment door.

"Whatever you say, Steve. I doubt that'll go well."

"Oh, Sam's a good man. He knows the circumstances, but you know? Now that I'm thinking about it, he did ask a question I couldn't answer."

Bucky followed him inside and waited for the question.

"And what's that?" He finally had to prompt Steve as he pulled his coat off.

"Who'd win in an arm wrestling match?"

Bucky and Steve stared at each other for a minute. It was like the moment Bucky had dropped into earlier that day, but instead of caution electrifying the air, it was a friendly challenge.

"Yeah, that's a good question. I think we should find that out."

Twenty minutes later, seated at Steve's kitchen table, they were at a deadlock.

"It's been almost twenty minutes, Steve. I think we should call a draw." They were both straining, for all the endurance they both had, it didn't measure up to much when the strength it was supporting had met its match. Steve's face was red, Bucky could feel himself sweating. If they didn't call it off, something was going to get busted in the act of winning.

"Nah, we gotta see who's gonna win."

"I don't think either of us is going to win at this rate, Steve. It seems like a lose-lose situation." He used his left hand to wipe the sweat from his upper lip.

"We'll see. In the meantime, tell me something. Tell me how I should go about approaching these ladies you want me to talk to."

"Oh…" Bucky bared his teeth for a second, his arm was starting to ache. It had recently been broken. "That's the easy part. You just go up and introduce yourself. You're Captain America! It's the next step that's gonna be hard."

"What's… that?" Steve was clenching his jaw, too.

"The kiss… Holy cow. Uh, the kiss is the hard part, when you've stopped talking and want to move on. That's where you're gonna get hung up. Too much in your head." Bucky was giving ground. Their fists had moved from upright to leaning precariously to Bucky's right.

"The kiss? Oh… I hadn't thought about that."

"Yeah, you gotta make it mean something without coming on too strong, without making her uncomfortable." Bucky sucked in sharply as his wrist began to bend.

"And how do I do that?"

"It's… an… art. Takes… precision… and… sk-" Bucky had to give. His arm went crumpling beneath Steve's and took the table down with it.

"Skill…" He finished quietly, staring down at the wreckage of the kitchen table.

"Damn," Steve muttered. "You were right. You lost and I lost a table. Lose-lose."

Steve burst into laughter, waving Bucky off from picking up the splinters of wood. "No, we'll clean that up later. I want to try the left arm."

"Not a good idea, Steve."

"Good idea? It's a great idea. Come on." He set his elbow on the counter and motioned for Bucky to join him.

That lasted all of about thirty seconds and left the counter with a crumbling hole.

"You were right again," Steve announced. "I bet you're right about the kiss, too. How do you find the balance?"

"I'll show you sometime." Bucky chuckled, bending down to collect the pieces of stone.

"Oh, yeah? You'll show me?"

"I'll educate you, yes. Find me a volunteer and I'll show you."

They stopped laughing and listened carefully. The front door had just tapped shut.

"Rogers, I was just stopping by to do-Barnes?"

"Natasha?"

"Romanoff."

"Rogers?" Natasha looked between Bucky and Steve in confusion and then to the rubble littering the room. "What's- Why do I always walk in on this sort of thing?"

"It could be so much worse," Clint stepped around her, also surveying the mess. "Hey! Bucky! You found each other!" He nodded in appreciation, taking in the scene. "You arm-wrestled, didn't you? Who won?!"

Natasha was still taking in the situation she'd just interrupted. She turned to Bucky first.

And he had an idea. He was happy, had his best friend back, had his life back, had a double opportunity in front of him. He turned and grinned at Steve, who looked extremely puzzled.

Bucky jerked his chin at Natasha and whispered, "now's the lesson. It's like this."

"Barnes, I was just about to tell Rogers and then find you-" she didn't resist when he took her by the waist and dipped her into a kiss, Steve and Clint staring and all. In fact, he could swear he felt her smile under his lips.

"This is new. She's been making all the plays up 'til now. Hmm. You know, she won him over at first by using a name that was semiotically resonant with yours: Stephanie Kay, Stephanie Okay, Steven Rogers. Okay. Roger. Okay. Roger. Something to chew on. Want a beer, Cap?" Clint asked amidst his chatter behind them. "I brought a six pack. I hope this means Bucky's part of the gang now…"

THE END